


On the benefits of coldness

by Sylvain_is_a_puppy (Lunaticality)



Series: What we longed for [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A lot of kissing, Difference in body temperature, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kissing, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Margrave Sylvain, Mercenary Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Post-Canon, date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24561931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunaticality/pseuds/Sylvain_is_a_puppy
Summary: Sylvain loves spending wintertime with Felix because when Felix is cold, he seeks after warmth. And Sylvain is a walking furnace.A slice of the long distance relationship between the mercenary and the Margrave.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: What we longed for [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773592
Kudos: 54





	On the benefits of coldness

**Author's Note:**

> Technically follows GD endgame where prof scouted everyone, but no specific reference is made in this piece. Just know that Felix leads his small team of mercenaries, and Sylvain is the Margrave.
> 
> Happy Birthday Sylvain!

Felix forgot how cold his hometown could be. As he rode on horseback amid heavy snow, he reminded himself that this wasn’t even the worst, simply because snow was still falling, and any half-decent northerner would know that the worst always hit _after_ the snow.

There was certain satisfaction to be found in leaving his own trail of hoofprints on the pristine, untouched blanket of whiteness. Soft crunching sound chased after him, the world falling peacefully quiet.

But still, it was so freaking cold.

Felix couldn’t feel his face. Or his ears. He kicked his horse again. Speed made bitter wind cut deeper into his skin, but he didn’t care; not when all he wanted was to arrive at his destination, the promise of warmth and shelter enticed him more than anything else.

The castle rose into view as his horse climbed up the path amid dense, now beautifully snow-covered forests. He could vaguely make out a tall silhouette standing before the gate, the edge of his floor-length mantle fell into the snow around him, elegant shade of rich teal gradually transitioned into a glistening silver as icy crystals accumulated on top. His bright, fiery hair, striking against the all-white landscape, danced in the wind like a perfect picture out of a fairy tale book.

Felix was tempted to slow down and properly take in the stunning beauty of it, but his heart ached like it was being pulled by a powerful magnet, and he felt harder and harder to stand it as the attraction grew stronger. He was so close.

Felix pulled the horse into an abrupt halt as he jumped off and threw himself into his fairy tale prince’s arms, “Sylvain!” he panted, finally showering in the warmth he longed for as the red-haired knight planted kisses all over him.

“Felix, geez, you’re so cold,” Sylvain eagerly cupped his face, huffing hot air onto his frosty lashes and icy brows, gently wiping with his thumbs as it melted into water, “let’s get you inside. How about some soup?”

“Sounds heavenly,” Felix wrapped his arms around Sylvain’s neck, whimpering against his lips, “I’m starving.”

He said that, but he didn’t make any move to head inside at all. Instead he pressed himself as tightly as he could against the taller man’s chest, sucking hungrily at his lips, prying them open with his tongue to lick and nip at every single inch of the warm flesh.

Sylvain wanted to tell him that he had _actual_ soup inside and that he didn’t have to stand there in the freezing cold and eat his face, but in all honesty, he couldn’t complain.

There were many things Sylvain didn’t like about Felix being a wandering mercenary while he himself was trapped here as the Margrave, namely that they couldn’t spend every single day together, which all could agree was just plainly _wrong_. But as it turned out, there _were_ some perks to being in what was essentially a long-distance relationship, one of which being the pure intensity of each reunion like this.

Sylvain never, ever got to see this needy, desperate side of Felix. Their relationship had been one where Sylvain leads, Felix frowns, pushes back, and eventually follows, reluctantly, only after he feels like he has put up enough of a fight. Sylvain liked this slightly roundabout dance of theirs, and he thought it was cute when Felix wanted something but couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Sylvain had enough confidence, so he didn’t mind the game.

But sometimes, _sometimes_ , it felt pretty damn good to be the one who pulled out of a kiss first.

Sylvain would stay there and tease him a little (“look who’s the needy puppy now?”), but Felix’s persistent kisses and roaming hands now inside the cloak were stroking his fire, and he needed enough composure to ensure that his lover was well fed before they engage in any other activities later in the day. He held Felix’s head in place with both hands and pulled back, puffs of white fog drifting between them as the other whined at the loss of contact, lips slightly parted with a glossy sheen. The steamy visualization of their uneven breathing was too telling. “ _Inside_ , Felix,” Sylvain urged as servants came over to take the horse.

The thing was, for someone born and raised in the northern part of Faerghus, Felix’s cold tolerance was pretty bad.

Back when they were kids, no one wanted to team with Felix in a snowball fight. His aim was surprisingly good for his young age, but his little hands would quickly get all red and stiff after only a few rounds, essentially rendering him useless as a fighting unit. The boys, being boys, shoved snowballs down each other’s necks, but eventually they stopped doing that to Felix because how utterly miserable it made him. Well to be exact, Dimitri and Glenn stopped but Sylvain still did it sometimes, albeit only with a tiny bit of snow—to tease, not to hurt.

It was understandable to a degree, since Felix was of a slender built, and his proclivity for agility in battles required that he wore lighter and less restrictive armors. That never stopped Sylvain from teasing him, though; every time they were out on a mission in winter, he would catch his childhood buddy, squeeze his red nose, and swiftly run away before he could draw his sword or threaten to slit his throat.

And today would be no exception. Sylvain stared amusedly as Felix sipped at his soup with a thick wool shawl over his shoulder, “I’m afraid wandering in the south has softened you, my friend,” the redhead grinned, “you should have stayed with me and keep in touch with your northern roots.”

Felix rolled his eyes to the effect of “we are not having this conversation” before reaching out to touch Sylvain’s hand on the table. It felt scorching compared to his own. “You are so hot,” he murmured incredulously.

“I know,” the other man winked. Felix swore he saw that one coming from a mile away.

“Sylvain,” he resisted the urge to roll his eyes again and simply shook his head, “how are you not cold?”

The Gautier Castle were built out of stone and draped in thick, heavy tapestry to insulate from the region’s infamously raging bad weather, and with a crackling fireplace the room was indeed warmer than the outside, but not by _that_ much. And yet there Sylvain was, in what wasn’t thick enough to hide the most prominent outlines of his fine muscles, looking completely at ease.

“It really isn’t that bad, Fe.” Sylvain let out a small laugh as he placed his other hand on top of Felix’s and rubbed gently. He scooted closer and rested his chin on Felix’s shoulder, blowing hot air into his neck, “how long can you stay this time?”

The fuzzy warm breath tickled his skin. Felix leaned back into the heat almost out of instinct, their cheeks pressed together when he turned to answer, “a couple days,” he nuzzled against Sylvain’s cheekbone like a small animal, satisfied at the warmth the other’s body provided, “maybe a week.”

The redhead beamed, “a week?” he pulled away to look at Felix properly, caramel eyes wide and sparkling with childlike joy, “that’s wonderful! You’ll be able to catch the winter festival. The one we went to as kids, remember?”

“That’s even more north from here,” Felix sighed, “it’s gonna be so cold.”

“Oh c’mon, I’ll lend you my heavy coat,” Sylvain moved to wrap his arms around Felix’s shoulder from behind, “and I’ll drape on you like this to keep you warm,” he smiled and reached forward to press a few quick kisses on the dark hair in front of him, “it’ll be like a date, Fe. It has been so long since we were on a date.”

Felix narrowed his eyes and searched his memory, “we’ve never been on a date”, he concluded.

“Yes we _have_ ,” Sylvain let out an offended gasp, “back in Garreg Mach when I took you out to the market?”

“Those were friendly outings.” Felix corrected, matter-of-factly.

“Those were _not_ friendly outings,” Sylvain raised three fingers in indignation, “we had a crush on each other, we were by ourselves and we did something fun. That’s the very definition of a ‘date’.”

“ _You_ had a crush on me.” Felix corrected again.

“Yeah _, sure_ , let’s go with that,” the corner of Sylvain’s lips twitched upwards into a sly smile. He knew better than trying to convince Felix right now. He leaned close to whisper into the other’s ears, in the lowest voice he could manage: “I’ll ask you again tonight.”

Sylvain secretly suspected that Felix didn’t get enough rest when he was out there, because the Felix back in the days never slept during the day, and now he always took a nap in the afternoon on the first day he arrived.

At first Sylvain was just reading in bed next to him because he wanted to be close, and when Felix grumbled about the sheets being icy, Sylvain opened one arm as a half-hearted joke. He didn’t expect Felix to actually scoot closer and snuggle into him arms, head resting on his shoulder and nose slightly brushing against the crook of his neck.

“Shut up.” Felix murmured as he closed his eyes, lazily wrapping one arm around Sylvain’s waist.

Sylvain thought it was a miracle how prickly this man could sound while doing the most tender thing. “But I didn’t say anything,” he protested quietly.

“Your heartbeats are too loud.”

“Well,” Sylvain sighed, “you’re in my arms.”

Felix snorted at the sheer idiocy. “Deal with it,” he pulled the blanket up and settled comfortably into his position. Sylvain’s hand found its way around Felix’s waist under the cover, while his other hand held the book over his knees.

Thank Goddess Faerghus was cold. Sylvain thought to himself, as he re-read the same sentence for the third, or maybe fourth time.

Sylvain loved spending wintertime with Felix because when Felix was cold, he sought after warmth. And Sylvain was a walking furnace. This meant that his Felix, who rarely, if ever, initiated any physical contact except when he had a weapon in hand, was now actively seeking to be close to him and _touch_ him. Sylvain felt like others would never understand how big of a deal this was. When Felix came to him and stood just a tad closer than where he would normally be, or when he absent-mindedly took Sylvain’s hand and place it on himself where he felt most cold, it made Sylvain’s heart melt like honey.

Part of him was conflicted because Felix was just _cold_ and he felt like he was taking advantage of that, but hey, he didn’t control the weather, and neither did he purposefully lower the room’s temperature in an attempt to dial up such inadvertently tender behaviors (although it was tempting), so in the end the red-haired knight’s good conscience stood its ground.

One thing Sylvain did not enjoy as much was that Felix’s aversion towards cold seriously limited their options in bed. Felix demanded that a thick and fluffy blanket be on top of them at all times. He went so far as to reject anything that tented the blanket enough to leave space for cold air. Sylvain wasn’t too keen on the blanket, because it made it very hard to see Felix’s body and Goddess did he _need_ to see it. He tried to convince Felix that once they _started_ it wouldn’t be as cold, but so far to no avail.

Sylvain knew he was the heat source, so his strategy involved having as much skin-to-skin contact as possible, pressing his broad chest against Felix’s back, hand and arms roaming all over his body. It actually felt pretty nice; Felix’s skin was slightly cool to the touch, scattered with scars like Sylvain’s, but Sylvain knew where to look for that silky smoothness Felix was born with; he would sneak a hand between Felix’s legs and run it along his inner thighs where he was never wounded, and ravish both the exquisitely smooth texture and the firm, strong muscles underneath. He loved the way Felix squirmed when he touched him like that, his small movements made their skins rub against each other and Sylvain could feel the heat rising at every point of contact.

At first Sylvain stuck to the rules he was given, and the most heat-retaining position he could think of was from behind, where they formed a sandwich from bed sheet to Felix to Sylvain to blanket. Then Sylvain realized that Felix loses quite a bit of bargaining power once he’s inside him, so the rules were really just guidelines, and he was now emboldened to play around.

Sylvain loved to have Felix ride him, so much so that he considered allowing him a blanket so that they could have it in winter too, but on second thought the blanket would take off half the appeal and it wasn’t worth it.

Don’t get him wrong, any amount of Felix was a good amount, and Sylvain wasn’t complaining. He just wished he had more options, that’s all.

The snow continued for another day. Sylvain glanced through the few new letters as he walked around the room absent-mindedly, waiting for Felix to return. Some young soldiers were thrilled to meet the swordmaster and eagerly asked for pointers in sword fighting, to which Felix agreed because, and Sylvain quoted, “so that your dumb ass can have stronger armies and is less likely to die on me”.

Sylvain would have loved to watch, if only watching other people train was a socially acceptable pastime, to see Felix in his element without the worry of him getting hurt. But he didn’t want his soldiers to feel uncomfortable, and he didn’t want to look clingy, even though clingy was all he wanted to be for the short time they could spend together.

The letters he got weren’t particularly interesting, and since he had pre-planned his schedule ahead of Felix’s arrival, he didn’t have any work to do. Sylvain wandered back to his desk and sat down, fingers tapping impatiently at the armrest. He did ask to have his library re-organized a few weeks ago; maybe he could go check the new catalog.

Sylvain was about to stand up again when he heard footsteps coming. He let out a satisfied sigh when he saw Felix appear at the door, “how did it go?” he asked with a smile.

“It was alright. They were quite enthusiastic.” Felix responded as he walked in.

“Did you just beat them up?”

Felix paused for a second, “no,” he grumbled in a low voice.

It sounded about as convincing as the “no” Sylvain got when he asked if Felix liked him before he confessed. Sylvain could barely suppress a chuckle. Felix glared at him.

As he walked closer to Sylvain’s desk, Felix noticed a clean pile of papers on the corner, folded neatly under a beautifully engraved brass paperweight. They looked familiar. He shot Sylvain a suspicious look, “what are those?”

Sylvain reached to grab them, but Felix was faster; he held the thin stack in one hand, fingers flipping it open and peeked inside. The handwriting was too familiar. These were _his_ letters.

Heat flushed to his face as he frowned, “why are you keeping these?”

“Of course I’m keeping them,” Sylvain stood up and try to reach across the table, but Felix turned away with his back towards him, “what, you want me to burn after reading?”

As it turned out, Felix did keep his promise and wrote Sylvain quite often. But letters, in their essence, were monologues put down on paper. Now imagine Felix doing a three minutes monologue.

And that’s what made those letters so wonderful: Felix would briefly update his whereabouts, and the rest was the most random things awkwardly put together to fill space. Sylvain appreciated it, sincerely, because Felix had the option to be his curt self, and yet he put in effort to make it something else. He knew Felix did so not for the formalities of what a proper letter should look like, but out of genuine desire to talk to Sylvain even though he didn’t know what to talk about. It was the most endearing thing.

Felix was painfully self-aware as to how bad his letters were. Embarrassed, he made a move towards the fireplace and Sylvain hurriedly jumped in front of him, grabbing his wrist with one hand and nudging him away from the fire with the other. “Felix!” he tried to sound angry, pursing his lips tightly to hide the smile underneath, “I don’t know if you’re aware, but once you send a letter out, it’s _mine_ ,” Sylvain declared, before switching to a softer tone, “your letters are my favorite things, Fe, seriously, I love them.” He didn’t attempt to snatch the letters for fear of tearing them, so he anchored his other hand behind Felix’s neck and attacked him with kisses. Some landed on his lips, others fell all over his face.

Felix scowled in feigned disgust. Finally he surrendered; he pressed the stack onto Sylvain’s chest, “whatever, do what you want.”

The redhead took it over happily, grinning in victory, “and you’ll keep writing me, right?”

Felix looked away with a faint blush. He didn’t expect Sylvain to threw them away, not really, but to know for a fact that Sylvain was keeping them still made him rather apprehensive. Those were physical evidence of something he didn’t excel at, after all.

“Felix, please,” Sylvain wrapped his arms around the other’s waist, lightly kissing the corner of his mouth. Felix’s body was warm from the training session. His skin tasted a little salty. “I used to be scared of letters, you know. I’d put them aside for days, as if bad things didn’t happen if I just refused to hear about them.” Sylvain smiled weakly. The nightmare-ridden days seemed so far away now, even though they ended only a couple of months ago. “But now I look forward to them because of you,” his tone turned brighter, “your letters make me happy. And they make me a more efficient Margrave because now I check them immediately.” Sylvain grinned.

The pang of guilt was softened by that last part. Felix sighed, “fine.”

Sylvain leaned in to kiss him some more, but Felix twisted himself away. He tucked a loose strand behind his ear, “I need to take a shower.”

“Wait,” Sylvain blinked, “you aren’t too tired yet, are you? I want to train with you as well.”

Felix narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “you? Want to train?”

“What?” Sylvain looked innocently surprised at the question, “I’ll use an axe this time. I’m quite into axes recently.”

Felix held his gaze for a few more seconds. He wasn’t entirely convinced that there was no ulterior motive, but he hadn’t seen Sylvain fighting with an axe for a long time. In the end, curiosity got the best of him. “Sure, we can have a few rounds.”

Sylvain grinned in victory, again. He had been practicing with axes, yes, but he also needed an excuse to join Felix in the shower. To make up for what the blanket took away from him.

Remember that the worst day always hit after snow? Today was that day. The sky had been clear since last night without a single trace of cloud. The sun was up, its light releasing a flash of diamonds across the pure white landscape. If Felix didn’t know any better, he’d think the view was breathtaking; but he did, so instead it looked menacing.

“It’ll be so cold.” He mumbled to himself.

“I know.” Even Sylvain’s voice had a tiny edge of apprehension, “but coldness is part of our collective identity, so it’s the only perfect day for winter festival!” He concluded cheerfully, dragging the dark-haired man away from the window to the breakfast table.

Felix sighed. There was clearly no use in fighting it; better get some warm food in his system before embarking on the hour-long ride. He sat himself by the fireplace’s side. Sylvain scooted over next to him, and now he was trapped in between two heat sources—couldn’t complain. Morning was a very chilly time of the day.

He took a sip at the tea. Unlike last time, it was spicy, the type that he liked. “Your taste improved,” he pointed out.

“Felix.” Sylvain solemnly put down his knife and fork, “my taste didn’t change. I prepared it _for you_.”

Felix threw him a glance and started working on his food.

“ _You’re welcome,_ ” the redhead arched an eyebrow.

Felix cut out a chunk of meat and put it in his mouth.

“ _Oh, what a nice thing for you to say, Fe,_ ” Sylvain sighed dramatically, “ _I love you, too._ ”

Felix huffed at the one talking to himself. Still he said nothing.

Sylvain shook his head in resignation; it was the game he signed up for. He’d feel better if he could see all the hickeys he left over the past few nights on the one-who-conveniently-lost-his-tongue, shades of red and purple striking against his pale skin, as a visual reminder of the sweet, sweet sound he made only for Sylvain’s ears. But Felix was all bundled up now, his turtleneck covering almost everything. It had been convenient back in the monastery, but not anymore.

Sylvain made a mental note to suck a hickey _right_ under where Felix’s jaw meets the ear, on that small, exposed block of skin not covered by any piece of his clothing.

Felix never understood why people decided to come out at the coldest time of the year to have a festival. He didn’t buy the “collective identity” thing one bit.

“Because there’s nothing else to do in the winter, Felix,” Sylvain explained, “so we entertain each other. Because we’re nice like that.”

Felix wasn’t going to complain, not anymore, since he already went through the pain of riding here and sacrificed his ears along the way. Who needs to feel his own ears as long as they still work?

He could see the town square ahead of them, the festive atmosphere already bubbling in the air. He’d seen busier towns and bigger markets in other parts of Fodlán, but this felt right in all sorts of ways. The crowds were just big enough to look bustling, and the few lines of colorful stalls were simple and homey. A small group was playing music while their kids ran around them. Maybe it was just the nostalgia, but Felix thought it felt like…home.

“Still mad that I dragged you out?” Sylvain squeezed his hand with a wide grin.

“I wasn’t mad.” He squeezed back lightly.

Sylvain’s hand carefully slid across his palm and folded over Felix’s hand. His movement was slow and tentative, almost expecting a rejection, which Felix found infinitely endearing. He let out a small puff of air, and let the taller man hold his hand. Even with two layers of thick gloves in between, Felix could feel the fast thud of Sylvain’s heartbeat in his palm.

“Did you know they have this hand holding mitten?” Sylvain asked a little too brightly, in a poor attempt to conceal the fact that the color on his cheeks was not caused by cold, “it’s like one glove but with two openings, so that couples can hold hands in it.”

Felix shot him a stern look, “that sounds obnoxious.”

The redhead laughed, “you are right. It does.”

They held hands as they wandered through the market, breaking contact only occasionally for Felix to take a better look at the weapon stall, or for Sylvain to browse through some pages at the antique book stall. He picked up a couple of those books, paid the shop owner and let him know that he’d come back later to pick them up.

Northern Faerghus was not heavily populated, nor was the area known for commerce, so the market was relatively small and they were finishing up pretty quickly. They shared a cup of mulled wine; Sylvain had some melted cheese on rye bread, while Felix got a grilled bratwurst. Sylvain chuckled as Felix lifted his chin awkwardly to try to catch the dripping juice and to take a bite without making a mess, “walking and eating, huh? You’ll get an earful if Ingrid was here.”

“Speak for yourself,” Felix held the sausage in front of Sylvain, who happily took a bite, “I’m not a nobleman anymore.”

Sylvain hummed a satisfied sound as he swallowed his mouthful, “I’m pretty sure Ingrid would uphold those standards for just about everyone. But especially for us,” he added, “no matter what we’ve become.”

Felix pondered on the idea. He had to agree; although both Sylvain and himself had matured and calmed down quite a bit in their respective shenanigans, during the last few months at Garreg Mach they still got lectured on a daily basis by the lady knight. It was their way of getting along, and nothing would change that.

It was late afternoon. The shadow was getting longer, even though the sunray still shone bright with just a tint of gold. With the warm food and drink, Felix felt the cold was a lot more sufferable, and for some reason he wanted to stay a little longer, gazing upon the town square as small groups of people busied themselves with setting up the stage for a puppet show. Sylvain stood by his side and laced their fingers, his thumb fiddling with the ring Felix’s had beneath the glove.

He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, his mind comfortably blank. After what felt like a few minutes, he realized that Sylvain had been watching him intently. Annoyed, he glanced sideways back at him, “something on my face?”

Sylvain just smiled, “want to hear it?”

“No.” Felix answered resolutely.

“Felix,” Sylvain grinned.

“Keep your cheesy lines to yourself.”

For once Sylvain did as he was told; he didn’t say anything, but he was still staring. Felix narrowed his eyes and stared back. The sun lit up the fuzzy edges of Sylvain’s curly red hair, giving it a soft, golden glow that was almost angelic; he had a dreamy look in his eyes, as if he was staring at the most precious thing in the world, his caramel eyes a sweet pool that Felix could drown in. Felix looked away, feeling the heat climbing up his neck. He covered his face with his free hand and pretended to be cold.

Amused by the reaction, Sylvain leaned to kiss him when he heard a familiar voice from behind.

“Syl…Sylvain?”

They both turned; the voice took a sharp inhale before she screamed:

“Felix!”

Before he knew it, a ball of bright orange hair was up against his chest, “Annette?”

“Felix! Oh my goodness I can’t believe it’s really you!” the girl in his arms raised her head, her green eyes beaming with joy, “it’s so good to see you again, Felix!”

Annette turned to look at Sylvain, who gave her a knowing nod.

“Mercie! It’s _Felix_!” she basically dragged her friend to where they were, the taller female’s eyes widened in delight when she recognized the dark-haired man.

“Oh my, it’s so nice to see you again, Felix!” Mercedes greeted him with her usual calmness and a gentle smile, but the excitement in her soft voice was unmistakable.

“It has been a while.” Felix nodded, a little bashful at the girls’ enthusiastic reactions.

“I’ll go get Ingrid!” Annette squealed before running away, “wait for me here!”

“Ingrid also? What are you ladies doing here?” Surprised, Sylvain turned to Mercedes.

“Oh, Annette and I were visiting Ingrid,” she smiled, “she told us about the winter festival, so we decided to come have a look.” Mercedes lowered her voice, “Ingrid has a boyfriend now,” she whispered cheerfully, “so we thought it would be a double date. Didn’t know it would be a triple.” She smiled knowingly at the boys.

Felix threw a nervous glance at Sylvain, only to find that Sylvain was looking at him too. Both averted their eyes to the opposite direction, perhaps a little too fast. Mercedes giggled quietly; she let it pass.

“Felix!” Ingrid called from afar, and the very next second she nearly ran over Felix as she crushed into his arms. She pulled back to take a good look at her childhood friend. Her eyes quickly watered as everything she wanted to say was left unsaid, and she simply hugged him tightly again.

Sylvain opened his arms with a grin as Ingrid pulled back, and they hugged too. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear, quietly under her breath, “thank you so much.”

“So…where’s the lucky guy?” Sylvain smirked as they separated, “Mercedes told us. We have to meet him.”

Ingrid blushed, “he went to prepare the carriage. Actually, we were just leaving.”

“What? So soon?”

“Sylvain,” Ingrid called his name in the disapproving tone that she always had for the red-haired troublemaker, “my land is a lot further from here than yours. Winter days are short; we have to leave now if we want to get back before dark.”

“You guys should come!” Annette eagerly chimed in, “we are making fireworks with magic tonight!”

Sylvain looked at Felix, who was looking at him too. He scratched his head, “ah, sorry, bad timing. Felix is leaving tomorrow; we have to go back to get his stuff.”

All three girls sighed; their pretty heads dropped in unison.

“Well, it can’t be helped then.” Ingrid lifted hers first, turning to Felix with a warm smile, “you two have to come visit me next time, though.”

Felix nodded gently.

“And come visit us at the monastery the next, next time!” Annette cheerfully added, “professor would be so happy to see you again, too!”

“We will.” Sylvain glanced at Felix and answered with a smile.

They bid the girls farewell and watched as they turned the corner and disappeared into the streets. Their small reunion came and passed all too fast, the sudden flush of emotions left Felix with a dreary sense of emptiness. His hand instinctively went for Sylvain’s; the warmth of the contact helped ground him as he took a long, deep breath.

“I made everyone worry, didn’t I.” He murmured.

He could feel Sylvain’s gaze upon him. “We worry because we care about you, Felix,” Sylvain pulled him gently into his arms, “we just want to know that you are doing okay.” He kissed Felix’s nose before the other man buried his face in his shoulder. Like that they bathed in each other’s warmth, their heartbeats slowly falling into the same steady rhythm.

Felix waited until the hollowness in his body gradually receded. He pulled back slightly to look at Sylvain, his arms still around the other’s waist, “was everyone banking on you to get me back?”

The redhead chuckled, “can you blame them?” He lowered his voice with a seductive smile, “I’m just that charming, I guess.” He grinned as Felix rolled his eyes, “but we do have to pay Ingrid a visit next time. She’s like my little sister, and I have to make sure she hasn’t fallen for some shifty playboy.”

“Takes one to know one,” Felix huffed.

“You already have me wrapped around your finger, Fe, in case you haven’t noticed,” Sylvain sighed, “there’s really no need to rub it in my face.” He leaned in to kiss Felix. Felix let him, for the most part; he didn’t push the redhead away until that shameless bastard tried to slide his tongue in.

Sylvain laughed as Felix shoved his face to the side, “alright, alright, let’s get my books and we’ll head back.”

“What are they about?” Felix took the top one from the thin stack in Sylvain’s arms, glancing at the book’s cover as they headed towards their horses.

“Mainly history of the region,” Sylvain said, “and some old trading records with neighboring lands. I’m trying to expand my library,” he smiled, “I found someone.”

Felix blinked, a little unsure as to what this was about.

“No, not like _that_ , Fe,” Sylvain quickly corrected himself, “I mean, I found this distant cousin. I might have met him once or twice when I was little, but I don’t really remember.” He shook his head, “anyway, he’s a bit older than me, married, and has one girl. Seemed like a decent person,” he nodded thoughtfully, “I’m thinking…that he could be the new Margrave.”

Felix stopped in his tracks. Sylvain turned around and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Sylvain,” Felix’s eyes widened, the meaning of those words spinning fast in his head. He repeated them in his mind and decided that they could only mean one thing before he hesitantly opened his mouth again, “you don’t have to do this.”

“Well,” Sylvain shrugged as he walked closer, “are you settling down with me? In my castle?”

Felix’s brows furrowed. He bit his lips as he looked away, “there’s nothing for me to do there. I can’t even teach others how to fight.”

Sylvain nudged him gently with an elbow, “and that’s completely fine,” he reassured him. He waited until Felix’s eyes were back on him again, “I don’t think I really wanted that anyway.”

The usual easy smile and playfulness slowly drained from Sylvain’s eyes. Left in its place was something deeper, heavy and loaded like an open wound and it hurt Felix to just look at it. His chest tightened, heart slamming furiously against its contracted cage. In the thick air that surrounded them, Felix’s fists clenched on their own.

“You are _free_ , Felix, at last,” Sylvain’s voice floated through the air, a low but firm whisper with the force of his all, “what I longed for, you have it now.” His lips slowly but surely curved up. He smiled, so sad and pitiful and yet so genuinely _happy_ , “I would never forgive myself if I take it away from you.”

They stood there in silence. Neither reached out or stepped closer, their only point of contact was held in each other’s gaze, and they poured their everything into it, the connection felt more intimate than anything they had ever shared. The rich colors at the beginning of a magnificent sunset reflected in the glistening pools of their eyes, the crimson glare danced with each soft blink.

“Now Felix,” the syllables of his name lingered on Sylvain’s lips like a prayer, “will you set me free?”

Something screamed in Felix’s chest. A cry from the burnt ashes of their past, of all the bodies they buried and the love and regrets they left behind. Felix took a step closer and slightly tilted his chin up until the tips of their noses almost brushed against each other.

He wanted to tell him, shout at him, scream at him, that yes, _yes_ , he’d do anything, he’d fight, kill, save, build, _anything_ , he’d wage another war, if it gave Sylvain what he longed for.

But he already knew that, so Felix condensed all of that into three very simple words and vowed into Sylvain’s ears. He had uttered those words before, some more than others, but never in that particular order, not once in his entire life.

Felix’s heart skipped several beats as the most beautiful smile blossomed across Sylvain’s face, so pure and bright without a single trace of shadow, the warmth of it extended to his chestnut eyes and he was glowing in its aura. It was contagious, and Felix found the corners of his own lips tugging upwards. Sylvain pulled him into his arms, hugging him tightly if a little awkwardly, with a thin stack of books between their bodies.

Felix squirmed, carefully rearranging himself inside Sylvain’s arms so that the hard corner was not poking at his ribs. He buried his face in the other’s shoulder. Sylvain’s smile grew into the most heartfelt laughter, the joyful sound rang like a sliver bell next to his ears.

It didn’t last forever as Felix had hoped, and when it quieted down back into a warm smile pressed against the side of Felix’s head, he hummed lightly. “You haven’t said it back.” He grumbled in a muffled voice.

Sylvain chuckled at the reminder, “having _you_ say it is so special, Fe,” hot air tickled Felix’s ears as the other spoke, “I feel like me following it up will only bring it down, you know?”

Felix grunted against Sylvain’s broad shoulder. He appreciated the self-awareness but didn’t agree with the conclusion.

“I’ll say it if you want to hear it, though.” Sylvain offered nicely. Felix only grunted again.

Sylvain tried to pull away so that they could look at each other, but Felix glued himself to his chest and wouldn’t budge. Sylvain smiled at the telltale redness that tinted Felix’s ears. “I love you, Felix.” He whispered as he nuzzled sweetly against the heated curve of the earlobe.

It was complete nonsense that Sylvain would think that his words were not as special, because Felix didn’t feel like crying before, and now he kind of did. He took several deep breaths to quell it down, before he untangled himself from the other’s arms.

“You could have just asked if I can use an extra lancer in my squad.” Felix scowled.

Sylvain laughed. “Yeah, yeah, but I like being dramatic,” he reached out with his free hand and lightly squeezed Felix’s nose. The angry one batted his hand away. He grinned shamelessly, “plus I finally got you to say it. It’s _so_ worth it.”

Felix glared at the brazen idiot, “don’t make me take it back.”

Sylvain gasped, “don’t you dare.”

Felix snorted dismissively and turned to head for the horses. They had stopped for too long, and if they didn’t rush now, the two of them wouldn’t be able to make it back before dark.

“Life on the road is tough,” Felix glanced at the red-haired nobleman when he caught up, “you won’t have all those nicer things that you like.”

“But Felix,” Sylvain smiled mischievously back at him.

Felix instantly regretted it. “Don’t say it,” he threatened.

“Maybe I won’t have those nicer things,” Sylvain was completely undeterred. He paused for a dramatic reveal.

“Stop.”

“…but I’ll have _you_.”

Felix cringed. The temperature must be dropping because he was very cold, and that’s why his face was red as a tomato.

“Suit yourself.” He muttered contently, stacking the book that he was still holding back into Sylvain’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I miss Christmas Markets *blasts AC in face
> 
> The previous one has more angst, but check it out for what happened if you are interested! I'll add a final smut piece on their mercenary (sex) life to complete my quest for inner peace with their none-BL ending.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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